JETFuel Magazine Spring/Summer 2014

2014!

S P R I N G / S U M M E R

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Boo ya! We’re back!

This edition is a big bumper So we’ve survived the winter bristling 50 page beast! It’s snow and we’ve survived the packed full of dinosaurs, rage, excessive photos of spring boxer shorts, dating advice and sakura, so bring on the summer biscuits! sweating! Anyway enough of the weather reportage, let’s get straight to brilliantness that is you people!

GOODBYE SPRING

With love, your editors

Warning! May contain some heavy weight articles packing some serious punches.

Nicole Giaccone & Simon Woodgett

AND EXCESSIVE PHOTOS Photos: Katsuyama and Wakayama sakura

OF SAKURA

J E T F O O L S!

2014!

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E D I TO R ’ S M E S S AG E

Goodbye Nicole!!!

Alas, it is with a heavy heart

to the design and layout of

acting as the JETFuel’s hired

that we must announce the departure of JETFuel editor

this issue (all the stylish articles in this issue that look

hitman... hitwoman...? hit agent...?

Nicole Giaccone. She has brought many talents to the

like they’ve been grafted with care and passion are her

So a big domou arigatou gozaimasu goes out to Nicole,

JETFuel cause, including an work), a dogged tenacity in exemplary and meticulous eye hassling and haranguing for grammar and syntax correction, an artistic touch

regular contributors, and she also revealed her ruthless side

...EVER POPULAR...

...EVER GRACEFUL...

and let’s wish her luck in all her future endeavours.

So here is to the...

...EVER CULTURAL NICOLE!

J E T F U E L!

2014!

CON TE NTS Contents 4 Classified Ads 5 Dino F-Art

Articles

6-7 Dear Tissue Boxes 9-10 I Am Unapologetic 12-13 Happy With the Moon?

16-18 Why I’m a Asshole 20-21 Are You Eligible to Date a Foreigner?

23-24 After JET 26-30 The Bajan Who Made a Mountain Out of a Molehill

Grammar Tip of the Day

Reviews

32-33 Rabbit Island 35-38 Memories of Syria 40-42 Four Fabulous Fukui Lunches!

Sports

44 Raptors! Roarrrrr!

45-48 The Heroes of Awajii 50 Fukui World Cup Festa

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DINOSAUR F- AR T ! ! !

DINO-DESTROYABOT

BY MALCOLM WELLBY AGED 12

D EA R TI S S U E B O X ES

BY KENNETH D’SILVA

I HAVE A TISSUE BOX ON MY TABLE, LET'S SYMPATHIZE WITH IT. I wonder what people did before the tissue. Did they just walk around with runny noses? Allow their noses to be clogged? Did they just accept their fate?

No, probably not. They probably just used their hands to blow their noses and any matter that exited the orifices would firmly adhere itself onto the hand and any other object in its firing range.

Everyone had mucus hands. Then came along a man, or woman, or company, I care not for the history of the tissue. You can Google it if you like. And they created the tissue because they had a phobia for germs and were disgusted by shaking other peoples’ mucus hands. This seems like a reasonable starting point and because this was a world-wide problem, this invention would make them billions. And it did.

They invented the tissue box. A seemingly simple concept but the convenience and versatility of which could not be disregarded. Pay no attention to how I conveniently ignored and continue to ignore the existence of napkins and the like. It's all about the tissue. ...cont’d

Editors’ Note:

At this point you’ve probably made a quick calculation upon seeing the word “tissue” in the title, accompanied by the name “Kenneth” but no, it’s not an article about masturbation (Kenny Balla no longer works for JETFuel).

Instead the more wholesome and familyfriendly Kenneth D’Silva muses on the unheralded existence of the humble tissue box.

P.s it’s also not a tale concerning a deer tissue box.

What a marvelous invention. Soft paper in a little

end in sight.

rectangular box. It's not even a rectangle, its a 3D rectangle otherwise known as a rectangular prism. They shoved soft

An emergency task force was assembled to address

the problem called the World's Impasse Prevention Experts,

paper into a rectangular prism and sold it to people and the or W.I.P.E. for short. This team was responsible for people loved it. It caught on faster than a cold and before

preventing catastrophes such as 'The Malevolent Mustard'

you knew it everyone was blowing their noses with these

and that time lawnmowers protested against the mass

marvelous inventions, and then the world as a whole

slaughter of grass. They were tough, they were proven and

simultaneously took in their first deep breath through their now they are facing their greatest challenge yet. noses.

The team immediately got to work. They were

Now they didn't stop there, no. The tissue did far

more than that. Due to his ease of use, small size and

afraid to use questionable methods and before long had kidnapped and captured strategically important tissue

overall portability, the tissue box could be

boxes around the world. The tissue

taken anywhere. You would see it on

boxes were taken to a top secret facility

your bedside table, in your car, on your

for examination, interrogation and a

desk at work and anywhere else you

new technique the team invented

could place a 10 centimeter by 30

called Tissue Torture.

centimeter rectangular prism. It could be

used for cleaning dirt, absorbing liquids, stopping nosebleeds and a dozen utilities

thought. They developed this unfathomable level of self importance

of which I don't yet have the creativity to

and saw themselves above cleaning the

make up.

filth of humans. The team, knowing

this, brought together various

It had style, it had fashion. It

See the team knew what the tissues

could be cute or it could be sexy. The

alternatives to tissues. There were

rectangular prism presented plenty of

napkins and t-shirts and even pet dogs.

surfaces on which to print a magnitude of

The tissue boxes were bound to a table

different things such as; your company’s logo, pretty colors

and were forced to watch as the W.I.P.E. team took turns

and patterns, inspirational advice, comics and so on. The

wiping their noses on anything they could wipe their noses

world was your oyster and the tissue box was your canvas.

Until the unimaginable happened. The rate at

on.

which technology progressed with the designs of tissue

alternatives in front of them being used with utmost grace

boxes slowly introduce new ways to use one. There were

and compatibility. Not a single t-shirt or dog ran away from

tissue boxes that could talk to you, or could interact with

the wet nose. They embraced it and almost seemed to

you. You would reach for it and it would pull away based

desire to have the snot of a human smear their surfaces. It

on the sensors around the box. A quirky and fun idea at

was a badge of honor.

first until you really needed a tissue.

tissue boxes finally succumbed to the Tissue Torture. They

Now you and I know this feeling very well: really

The tissue boxes were stunned. They saw all their

After witnessing hours upon hours of this, the

needing to blow your nose and the snot was oozing and just agreed to announce to the tissue boxes of the world their running down onto your lips and as a motor instinct your mistake and that they would love to be back in the humans lips would slurp up the slime. Everyone was feeling like this, hands, if they would let them. The announcement was they desperately needed tissues to wipe or blow their noses

made and tissues around the world celebrated in joy in

and release themselves from this torture.

their new found cause. See for the tissue, they felt a sense of worthlessness by not being used. They lost all sense of

But the tissue boxes wouldn't allow it. Every time someone

purpose and begin to question their tissue-y lives. Having

reached for a tissue, the box would back away, or it would

an unanimous decision to return to their humble

yell some obscenity at you that severely damaged your self

beginnings brought them joy and brought just as much joy

esteem and left you crying and needing a tissue to wipe

to the humans.

your tears. It was a brutal cycle of heartache that left you

weeping salty water and oozing filthy snot. There was no

harmony. The end.

The humans and tissue boxes lived together in KD.

DINOSAUR F- AR T ! ! !

THE LITTLE MERMAIDSAURUS

BY ERIN EL-TALWIL AGED 9

I AM UNAPOLOGETIC! I AM UNA-POPO-LOGETIC! !

!

STOP THE MADNESS! ! !

MINA-SAN! SEINO! !

!

STOP THE MADNESS! ! !

I sit in the vault of my voiceless cares !

Passing the years between 8:15 and 4:45…! !

STOP THE MADNESS! ! !

How to over, with, under, stand ! by, for or against !

This 'known for knives' - its hives… !

Of hyperactivity? !

Drones falling on phones like landmines! !

Disarmed with a “um um” here and a ! “um um” there- !

Everywhere an “um um”! !

But pre-Viagra-rise-with-the-sun !

McDonald !

Did not have a love motel! ! !

STOP THE MADNESS! !

!

Xerox-San in the spirit, on my behalf, !

Not to its taste, spat mochi at the staff. !

DEFCON 1! DEFCON 1! !

Minions on high alert, !

Sparks! Inside-only shoes chipping by! !

“To kill one bird with two stones!”!

I shrug and sing a sigh. !

JETFUEL May 2014

STOP THE MADNESS! ! !

Monday morning meeting, !

In Japanese (or a now familiar fog)- !

Grandstand, on the cryptographs, fixate- !

This day, that day, in a race to week next, !

And so, “You didn’t know?” !

From Creeping Crazita, only got me vexed. ! !

STOP THE MADNESS! ! !

No, don’t worry - no knees !

Mountain Mouth !

Need not echo “Good morning” back - !

One hair to a friend versed in ! voodoo arts !

For a portion nicknamed !

“Nymphomaniac”. !

!

STOP THE MADNESS! !

!

In fact, as I place myselves !

Upon the chessboard of a needling conviction !

That someday soon it will be lunch time, !

And so I need no longer simply rhyme, !

I pray for Buddha to blow a blight on !

All who fasten the word “shy” around their lobes !

And over the remaining holes in their ! bobbing globes… !

But especially those who do so ! in Fukui bank wickets !

And the skittish teenaged similars: ! hemming, hawing, eventually sitting !

But seldom striving to, !

(From questions they have group dated),!

Awaken answers... !

! ! !

Since, apparently, a response may fall !

By osmosis !

Into day dreams !

From the invisibly branching ! canopy of constellations... !

When shaken. ! !

STOP THE MADNESS! !

!

It is the outside season for this: An! attempt to fill up with ice,!

The inside remains unchanging - free-ranging frigid,!

So yellow scales cast off (as eyes shrink),!

My skins thicken until they buckle into the blackness!

Of a doorway that looks open,!

Although there is no doorway — only a chime!

Indicating that I must now settle upon my 2:20 nest!

!

STOP THE MADNESS!!

!

Oh?! We don’t have time for the worksheet you !

Power-made-your-point requested?! !

That I spent my self-made ! scaffoldings scaling !

Because you have never been awarded a !

DEEP DICKing?! !

Not with my eyes but... I see... I see... !

What is Keigo again for: !

“Pass me my rashole machete!”? ! !

STOP THE MADNESS! ! !

Therefore, neighbour, after leading

The daily dub step with desks and ! dust devils !

To 'Dancing Queen' in English showers, !

Continue to tally !

That tower of paper thin trees! to its point !

Of collapsing shuffle into my vault !

Until the day of my highly ! anticipated (by me’s) !

Kiss-teeth quarrel with sanity, when I, !

Behind the I’s, shall step out of the !

Forest of shadows to climb upon !

Your metal-cold altar and there - !

My call to order: !

!

“SUMI MAFACKING-SEN!” !

Before presenting, !

With both cheeks, !

A gift, travelled from near the heart, !

Designed... !

With you in mind !

At then forever 4:45. !

Osaki ni suckas!

DINOSAUR F- AR T ! ! !

JOGGASAURUS

BY KNOT SURE AGED 64

JETFUEL May 2014

I knew that I wanted to write something for the upcoming JET Fuel, but had no idea what I could possibly write about. However, I think I found the inspiration I have been waiting for in one of my previous students. For privacy reasons her name in this article will be “C-san.” Before reading this story please know that I am merely reflecting upon my interaction with her and not passing judgment on any person involved. I’m simply observing and documenting my thoughts and opinions. My hope is that through reading this article you will be inspired to reflect on some of the more challenging cultural differences you’ve faced with a new perspective.

C-san was a san-nensei student at my school during my first year on JET. Her dream was to become an English teacher and she worked very hard at studying English. Because she wanted to study English in college, she had to take an extra interview and written English exam to get into the English department for her university. She came to me in October before her graduation and told me about her goals after spring. She told me she was wor ried because her pronunciation and communication skills were not up to par and, honestly, she was right to worry. In comparison to her knowledge of vocabulary and her reading comprehension level, her listening and speaking was very far behind. I agreed to work with her on her conversation and pronunciation skills in my spare time.

She started having lunch and talking with me after school 3 days a week. We would talk about

I always had my parents telling me, “You can do or be anything that you want.

Set your mind to something and work hard.”

“They told me, ‘Japanese people think it is unkind to encourage a student down a path that would ultimately end in failure. Even though students may want something very badly, they don’t understand the big picture that you can’t always do or have what you want.’ ” everything from her friends and family to whether we thought Severus Snape was a good or bad character. We also read books aloud together to practice pronunciation. She would listen and repeat after me. She would practice at home and come back the next week improved. After the sannensei students stopped having classes I began to see her more often. Her interview test was days away and while she had improved, I knew her competition would be tough.

Throughout the months that she had been preparing for her entrance exams I began to notice the JTEs at my school wanting little to do with her.

They even refused to meet with her and tried to convince her to study something else in university.

I couldn’t understand why they would try to discourage a student who so earnestly wanted to study English. When I asked my JTEs they said that she wasn’t talented enough and that she would never meet her goals. No matter how hard she worked she would be unsuccessful. They told me Japanese people think it is unkind to encourage a student down a path that would ultimately end in failure. Even though students may want something very badly, they don’t understand the big picture that you can’t always do or have what you want. cont’d...

JETFUEL May 2014

Happy With the Moon? cont’d...

Japanese people, they said, believe in being satisfied with your skills and talents and that a good job that you are successful at is better than a tumultuous exciting one that you don’t do well. Your job doesn’t have to be your passion in Japan.

Your job is just that -- a job. They said they were happy that she wanted to improve her English and was passionate about speaking out, but for her, it would be better to have English speaking as a hobby and not a career.

I had never noticed before this conversation, but it is true that Japan is filled with people who are extremely passionate about their hobbies. Most of my Japanese friends are very interested and invested in one or two hobbies. I think this starts in school with club activities, but it doesn’t end there. I feel like every teacher at my school has one thing they do outside of their family and work in which their free time revolves around. I have teachers at my school who are into gardening, swimming, playing a musical instrument, and even martial arts. As for C-san, my JTEs were suggesting she get a career more suitable to her and have speaking English as a lifelong hobby.

When my JTEs explained their position to me I understood their perspective, but I couldn’t agree. I always had my parents telling me, “You can do or be anything that you want. Set your mind to something and work hard.” I was always told to do what I was passionate about.

When I looked at C-san I saw a girl who was passionate about English. I saw a girl no one believed in. I made it my personal mission to help her achieve her dreams of becoming an English teacher. I worked hard with her and hoped she would prove all my JTEs wrong.

T h e d ay b e fo re h e r fi r s t interview test I felt dread as I said

goodbye to her and wished her luck.

Out of all the students interviewing to study English in university, she was the student who had worked harder and longer by far and she still had the slimmest chance of passing.

Then what I had feared happened.

She failed her first two interview tests. She came to me week after week to tell me she had failed. I was disheartened and saddened. She looked defeated. She told me that she had one more chance to interview for the English department. I think inwardly we had both given up hope that she could do it. But I smiled and told her how proud I was that she had improved so much and to fight hard for her last exam.

She came the following week to my desk with a giant grin on her face. She had been accepted and she thanked me profusely. I was ecstatic.

We proved my JTEs wrong; hard work can overcome talent and achieving dreams is possible.

After she left the room my JTE turned to me and said that she felt sorry for C-san. I was surprised because I thought she would say something a little more joyful or congratulatory. When I asked her why she felt sorry, my JTE said she would most likely fail all of her classes next year and have to change degrees wasting money and time.

In the end, my JTEs were right about her. When I saw her two terms later she had struggled and failed in her university classes and she did switch career paths. She still studies English but now she is on track to be a translator for novels and films, a career path that doesn’t require you to be a good speaker. I feel sad finally admitting defeat

because I know that no student could have worked harder than she had to become a better English speaker.

Now, as I look back on this experience, I think maybe my JTEs were right all along. Maybe it’s kinder to let dreams be just that -dreams. Who was kinder to C-san in this story, my JTEs or me? Was it good for me to encourage her to try and fail or should adults shield students from impossible aspirations and teach them to be satisfied with their place in life? My JTEs believe in being more practical and appreciating the skills and talents you do have and learning to be satisfied with that. On the other hand, I know that her ability did grow from the experience even though it ultimately ended in disappointment. So the questions still stands, should we be encouraging the people in our lives to pursue their passions no matter how grandiose or unlikely? Is this really healthy or beneficial in our lives?

Before my experience with CSan my answer would have been certain; that we should raise our children to believe they can be anything or do anything they want. I am still grateful to have been raised to pursue my dreams and I will probably encourage my kids to do the same. But now I see this cultural difference as a grey area; there is no definite right or wrong. There are positives and negatives to both sides of the argument. I feel happy I was able to work so closely with a student and share this story with her.

Whether my encouragement was kind or not, I’m still uncertain.

However, I know that I have grown and lear ned a lot from this experience, and I hope she has too.

EMT.

DINOSAUR F- AR T ! ! !

HARRY POTTAMUSAURUS

BY STUART MEADOWS AGED 5

FOR SALE

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Meditations on the Decision Not to Recontract; or

Why I’m an Asshole

by Megan Svedman “‘Christ, there’s a thesis?’

Yes, bear with me.”

I’ve been sitting at my computer and staring at the blank document opened in front of me for, like, 15 minutes. I know that’s a comically short amount of time when one considers how this trope is usually used in a narrative, but when you’re surrounded by Japanese school teachers1, doing anything stationary for 15 minutes seems borderline lazy. In my case, it was (is? will continue to be?) certifiably, 100% lazy.

!

I’ve been reading a lot of David Foster Wallace lately, which I realize reads as an obnoxiously self-aggrandizing statement, but I don’t mean for it to. I mean, the guy’s a Critically Acclaimed with a capital “A” author (Author), so, no, I don’t think it’s cool of me to have read his writing or particularly impressive given the widespread knowledge of and exposure to him and his work2. But, what I’m getting at is that it’s been making me think a lot about sincerity and an honest approach to making decisions3.

!

I’m not recontracting with JET.

Knowing that I’m about to run a pretty

high risk of sounding like a sanctimonious prick, here it goes: For me, this perpetuation of an oppressive pedagogy which hammers out individuality and- as far as I can tell- a meaningful sense of self4, is not something I’m fond of. Two follow-up points. One: I don’t think I’m nearly well-equipped enough to pass any personal or intellectual judgment over those who find this work their life’s calling (or even just pleasant for 1-5 years of it). So, no offense, k? Two: The suggestion that I should individually create a positive change within my particular situation to increase the sense of satisfaction I get out of the work is such a fool’s errand it’s almost insulting. It’s the fundamentals of the system I have a problem with, not my school in particular. cont’d

! !!

An aggressive POV on the shuffle-run they are constantly doing: fucking walk.

You’re an adult and it is insufferable behavior considering the catalyst (which is to say JHS students’ education; a cause about which THEY don’t even care [Listen, pal, no, I’m not saying that apathy is a preferable stance for the teachers to take. Strive to improve education! The running just sets my teeth on edge.]).

2 Those of you at all familiar with his work: am I coming off as derivative or phony yet?

3 Don’t worry- I don’t let my students begin sentences with conjunctions, but I feel like I have a strong enough mastery of the English language to bend the syntactical rules a bit, cool?

4 My position is admittedly filtered through an ethnocentric lens: I see greater “truth,” perhaps, in valuing an individualistic versus collective sense of self. I’ll concede to there being some wiggle room in there.

1

That said, in the interest of full disclosure, because I want to be totally honest and upfront with you all, the day-to-day can be a real bore, too. By all means, have at me after this, because here is where I reveal myself as a detestably quixotic product of my generation; ever the dreamer, I remain mournfully entitled and/but heinously directionless. I don’t like my job (read: I HATE my job). I don’t like pandering to teenagers’ scrutinizing, perverse sensibilities and I don’t really fucking care if they learn English. It’s like….I get it. You don’t want to do this stupid worksheet I made about a grammar point that is entirely untranslatable into your native tongue? Damned if I care. Draw your pictures, carve your name into your desk, pass a note in what I think you think is a discreet manner but what is actually an attention-grabbing maneuver, make fun of my ass while I am turned around and writing on the board, brazenly ignore my attempts to explain in the most basic terms how to complete this activity- I truly understand and part of me wants to join you because coming into work and doing this every day is the most boring, meaningless work I’ve ever done in my life.5 An English Board? Do I have any ideas for it? No, do you? You want me to change the font of just this word on this worksheet? Um, okay. So, just read this list of words right here? Sure, why not. A constant litany of mundane, seemingly arbitrary tasks6.

!

No but seriously enough hot air7, it’s time to get to the pith of this whole diddy. “Christ,

Complacency and aimlessness are tools we employ to cover up our existential insecurities. there’s a thesis?” Yes, bear with me, I think there might be8.

! ! ! ! ! ! ! !

! ! !

Which, so, yeah, I’ve had it pretty goddamn good up until this point.

The author would like to emphasize here that she in no way thinks teaching a foreign language is a useless enterprise. On the contrary, she acknowledges its importance and admires the educators who can entirely and happily devote their lives to making foreign language curriculum effective and engaging. She is, however, a miserable cad and so she will never have a satisfying relationship with a line of work which requires such a deep level of thankless devotion. Te judice.

7 While I’m at it, though; H.A.1) the trash sorting, I mean, come on, gimme a break, H.A.2) the lack of insulation, H.A.3) the constant undercurrent of severe misogyny, etc., etc.

8 The silver lining to a possible failure on my part to convey a coherent thesis is that this essay might just do the trick for getting Xanga.com to make a comeback. “And then before bed I ate some cookies and listened to some Ashanti, which I find always makes me feel better.” cont’d 5 6

Now, wait. I’m not some haughty moron. Different things work differently for different people.

So, maybe, here: complacency and aimlessness are

“I say, no more. I don’t want to do things that I don't understand or believe in.”

tools I use to cover up MY existential insecurities.9 By which I mean: despite feeling saturated by a self-loathing rooted in the fundamental meaninglessness of this all10, I am NOT entitled to coast through life. In fact, the impetus to remain willfully and fervidly engaged in my decisions- even the small ones- becomes all the stronger when one considers the alternative. It’s easy to look through “a priori”, dogmatic lenses when trying to cope with the non-sense of day-to-day living11, but I find my thoughts, my vigor, calcifying when I do.

!

!

9

I say, no more. I don’t want to do things that I don't understand or believe in. And maybe it’s a solipsistic way to think, that I can so committedly focus on my own decisions and my own worldviews and my own “journey,” or whatever, but I don’t reckon that’s the case.12 I like to think that living carefully, remaining engaged and reflective and assiduous, is truly “fighting the good fight,” right?

That positioning myself on platforms which I can ardently and sincerely defend to the bone13 will no doubt lead to something resembling true satisfaction, yeah? Or, alternatively, and perhaps equally as likely, the suggestions I’m making here are the naïve preoccupations of a privileged 22 year old. It’s a possibility I’m willing to consider. MS.

!! ! !

I will continue to use diplomatic, egocentric diction throughout the remainder in an effort to avoid any

brutal (albeit undue) lambasting (because I’m a coward), but please note my fierce belief that these are tendencies which epitomize an entire generation, not just my person (she says in a footnote filled with caveats).

10 “this all” being the human experience. Watch your back, J.P. Sartre, am I right? (Aren’t you sick of this yet? My desperate, callow attempts to prove myself intellectually to you all?)

11 Like, for example, “Sometimes we just have to do things we don’t like.”

12 A strong minority bit of me does, though. See: Title, 2nd clause. y 2014 a M L 13 Are there any?

TFUE

!

JE

DINOSAUR F- AR T ! ! !

GREEN DINOSAUR CARRYING A BOOKASAURUS

BY I.FORGOT AGED 11

Are you eligible to date someone from another culture?

A Test! (Let me make it easy - it’s multiple choice.)＊ * It only helps to be honest with yourself...

1. When you get an enticing smile from that attractive human being you…

A) Ignore it and look away.

B) Give them a shy smile back but keep your distance.

C) Slowly close the distance between the two of you.

2. When a conversation happens you…

3. When you make it to the date you...

A) Offer to pay for the meal (not sure how it works in their country but Mom taught you well).

B) Go Dutch - it’s safe.

C) Do a nomihodai - no one will remember after a couple of hours anyway.

4. When you’re not sure if they like you, you...

A) Resort to gestures and eye contact. (Hey, they’re universal right?)

A) Tally how many Facebook likes you have from them.

B) At least make sure that they can say your name correctly before you ask to be their Facebook friend.

B) Ask them (they have a tendency to say yes to everything anyway).

C) Recite a love poem to them in their native language.

C) Send a hot selfie of yourself in a text message and wait to see if it ends up as their iPhone background.

5. When they misunderstand you, you...

A) Give up in frustration- it will never work! (I mean, do I have to teach them everything?)

B) Try and explain that the slang you just used was actually a compliment and not an insult. Then teach them how to use it so the next time you see each other you have something to blush and laugh about.

C) Keep on doing what you’re doing. One day they might understand.

6. When they ask you to meet their parents, you...

A) Turn and run.

B) Think, “Uh, I just thought we were brushing up our language skills by talking to each other?”

C) Say, “Yes please!” (I just passed the N5 -I can do this!)

Tally Your Points!!!

Results Wa?

1.

A) 0 points - No one benefits from this.

B) 2 points - This is the culturally sensitive way to go.

C) 3 points - You tiger you! No one wants to die alone.

Score

Verdict

18-15 points: You Casanova, You

I say give it a try. It might be a bumpy road, but maybe there is a glimmer of hope in your future.

Your mom has taught you well and as you embark on this journey I hope you remember her words of wisdom.

2.

A) 1 point - Universal my ass. But, at least you tried.

B) 1 point- Baby steps.

C) 3 points - Better make sure you’re wearing a suit or good looking dress when you do this.

3.

A) 5 points - Thanks Mom!

14-10 points: You Can Do it, Later.

B) 1 point - Better figure out the word for “Dutch” in their native language.

C) 2 points - When in Rome…

10-0 points: No.

4.

A) 0 points – No. B) 2 points - Confidence is sexy.

C) 1 point - Confidence is sexy, but you should save the scary self-lovin’ for when you know them better.

5.

A) 0 points – I guess you always take the easy road in life and love.

#YOLO #YOUGOTTHIS #CULTURALEXCHANGE

B) 3 points - Did you know your emotional intelligence makes you attractive?

The good thing to remember is that living and dating in another culture requires emotional intelligence. And this emotional intelligence, no matter how old you are, can still be developed. But, for now, take a breather and first learn to look at and understand the world from another person’s point of view.

C) 0 points – How lazy can you get, really?

Well what should I say. Keep it on Facebook; it will be safer for the both of you.

6.

A) 0 points - That’s a lot of pressure. Better wear your tennis shoes.

B) 1 point – USE and ABUSE… C) 2 points - Be still my heart.

Anon.

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JETFUEL May 2014

“One day soon I am going to be packing up everything and going back to America and having to explain the past five years to people who don't know anything about Japan past Tokyo, sushi, and robots”

After JET

By Ashley Jill Murphey

Ashley-Jill contemplates life after JET Essential reading for 4th and 5th year ALTs I applied to JET hoping to have a one year hiatus between graduating university and starting a career. I was 21, fluent in Spanish, and didn't want to be a teacher. It was easy to make the decision to stay for a second year because I didn't feel ready to leave. Sure, I wasn't a fan of being an ALT, winter nearly killed me with its meter deep snow, and I was in dire need of a Mexican food fix, but I stayed because I hadn't seen everything I wanted to see, gone where I wanted to go, and learned nearly enough Japanese to deem myself worthy of leaving. But mostly I just didn't have anything better that I wanted to do with myself for another year. So I stayed. And then again, and again, and finally going into a fifth year just seemed like the only reasonable thing to do.

Knowing that this is the final year as an ALT and as a JET has changed my experience of being here. I look at things differently and try to appreciate everything that makes this my life in Japan. I don't care for the smell of the rice fields burning but during the fall I would roll all my windows

1

down and take the deepest breaths possible trying to take in that smell, "Just because this might be the last time I ever smell it." I take pictures of seemingly worthless and common things such as those rocks alongside the road that look kind of like tombstones even though they are everywhere and I'll be seeing them for a while longer.

But one day, I won't be in Japan. One day soon I am going to be packing up everything and going back to America and having to explain the past five years to people who don't know anything about Japan past Tokyo, sushi, and robots. It will be so much easier to get my point across if I have these photos or have thoroughly thought about everything that is my everyday life. Japan never fails to amaze me. I still get excited when I see ladies in kimono or a cool vending machine or win a Ukon no Chikara at the combini. Now I'm 27, probably couldn't order a burrito at a Mexican restaurant, and don't want to be a teacher. And... I still don't know what I want to do instead. ...cont’d

JETFUEL May 2014

“So how do you come back from something like that?”

At the end of February, the Conference for Leaving JETs was held in Yokohama for two days and I knew that I needed to go to this. Even though I want to stay and work in Japan (hopefully Fukui!) I am planning on returning to the States for a few weeks. Those will be the most awkward weeks of the past five years.

I am going to suffer from some serious reverse culture shock and am not looking forward to it one bit. I wanted to be at that conference with others that are just as unsure about the future as I am. It turned out to be a very helpful conference because I am not the only one who is dreading the end of JET. I've been very settled here and closed off from the rest of the world for a long time. Sure, I got out a few weeks at a time and traveled around in Southeast Asia but that wasn't reallife either. The prospect of real-life is terrifying. The thing I learned at the conference is that if you stay for five years---you are lazy. Lazy and unmotivated and worthless and unmarketable. That's just what I wanted to hear. That makes me feel wonderful and relieved. **NOT!! removed So how do you come back from something like that? Don't be worthless.

It's so simple to just make it through the week looking forward to the weekend, but I'm stuck in that limbo where March, April, May, June and July are my week and August and forever after are my weekend. I'm trying to make it through these five months but right now my weekend seems pretty lame.

However, it doesn't have to be. I had an interview with a company that I became interested in at the Career Fair at the

2

A-J seeks to alleviate her worries about re-assimilating with American culture. conference and the person interviewing me had been a JET for three years. He said he wanted to ask me how I didn't gnaw my arm off in the last two years because he was bored out of his mind in the third year. He said it shows a lack of interest and motivation to stay that long.

I had to tell him all of the things that have made it worthwhile to stay on for two more years.

It was then that I realized how we can turn ourselves into marketable stars that will get lots of interviews. I have been in the English classroom the least in the past three years but in other classes and helping out with other school events the most. Those times are more important than me standing off to the side of a classroom and only interacting with students as a tape recorder. Sure, my kids don't speak English very well but I have engaged classes and the kids don't think I'm just that blond haired blue eyed foreigner sitting in the staff room. They know I study Japanese, they know I suck at basketball, they know that I like tea ceremony, know how to dress myself in

“I am not the only one who is dreading the end of JET. I've been very settled here and closed off from the rest of the world for a long time.”

a kimono Ashley Jill better than most Japanese people my age, and cannot run anymore. I know their parents, their siblings, and have been here for all of their junior high school experiences.

You have to choose your words and actions wisely but you can make yourself marketable by not just sitting in the staffroom and waiting for the weekend.

School can be extremely boring. But you can find lots of ways to fill the time and get more out of your experience in Japan.

We all have to leave. Even if we stay in Japan we can't just continue like this forever (unless we get that Fukui City job where you can be an elementary ALT forever). Therefore we need to think about the future even if we have no clue what we want to do. I am tortured by not knowing what I want to do. It sucks. But honestly that means I can do pretty much anything. I can go pretty much anywhere. I'm going to the Olympics!

AJM.

DINOSAUR F- AR T ! ! !

GOHANASAURUS

BY SIMON WOODGETT AGED 8 1/2

JET

The Bajan who made a

Mountain

out of a Molehill

!

by none other than Martin Boyce

b

People were like red ants at a picnic on the igneous rock where I thought I would die.

I spit on mountains everywhere now and wish that they would all be moved out of the way. The bulldozing must start near the school at which I’ve been contracted to work for a year in Japan and of whose Mountain Climbing Club I’d recently become a member because I thought I liked nature.

The nature of this uprising of rockstone in particular was such that, in the darkness of a night hike organised for new staff, you have the impression that the next station (a place to stop and rest) is at the top...until you reach and can see past it to the one that follows. After the twelfth time, I quickly decided that I would live there, on the volcano, if that small oasis hadn’t turned out to be the last on the eternal trek.

Some of the other teachers’ bodies, mutinous because, instead of being taken to bed at the earlier time to which they’d become accustomed, they were carried on a surprise six hour military tour of duty and attempted to turn inside out.

FUE

LM

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“It occurred to me suddenly that my brain probably wasn’t getting enough oxygen and I hoped that as I continued on I wouldn’t, without warning, suffer from some euphoric episode that might lead me to fling myself off a cliff to try to fly back to Barbados.”

The afflicted suffered from fits of vomiting and a desire so violent to relieve themselves some believed it was from things yet uneaten—spoilt food they would unintentionally eat in the future.

Many concluded that this had happened to serve as a warning to never climb anything ever again—not even a flight of stairs, especially if resembling the one at the bottom of Mount Fuji...at its beginning.

The pilgrimage commenced with a thought that followed a schups, I do a six hour hike before in de sun from Barkclay’s Park to North Point. White people is bare jokers! I was wrong to assume it would be a walk in the park and was sure of this when I first thought;

I am going to lose my life.!

I had slapped my side against a rock face and was then supporting my upper body with my arms, hands on knees, like an open jalousie window, trying not to succumb to the sting of the air like lashes in my lungs when I saw them—luminescent blue butterflies. cont’d

They were each the size of two open hands put together to form beating wings and I turned to show someone but remembered that I’d rushed ahead, thinking I’d been left behind by the ones to whom I compared myself in physicality, and had been. They hovered for a moment and my attention was drawn behind them to the lanterns centipeding down the mountain, disappearing and reappearing in the mist...and then, as if I’d blinked them away, they were gone. It occurred to me suddenly that my brain probably wasn’t getting enough oxygen and I hoped that as I continued on I wouldn’t, without warning, suffer from some euphoric episode that might lead me to fling myself off a cliff to try to fly back to Barbados.

My heart was fluttering around, not inwards like it has when I, on occasion, deliberately move faster than normally required; it was throwing itself against its cage. I put both hands on my chest and pushed down. After three more steps, I gritted my teeth as something corrosive was pumped into my thighs. Two more steps and I was gasping like a fish breathing air. People were inhaling deeply from canisters that looked like small fire extinguishers, but I knew that only a brain starved of nutrients would direct anyone to climb into the sky in spite of how things turned out for Jack.

I trudged on trying not to look up, but at my feet instead. I willed myself to just put one foot in front of the other whispering lies like, “You can do this,” and “It’ll soon be over.” I was grateful to eventually be marking time behind a long

line of children who’d sprung up and withered into senior citizens along the way, because I would tell everyone how upsetting it was and that they slowed me down. Then...magically...after what seemed like at least forty consecutive nights disguised as one, I was at the place where you run out of mountain to climb.

Unfortunately, it was also where the grey gale-force was made out of ice machetes.

As I started to be pealed alive, almost immediately, out of someone’s throat came, “I’m dying! Come lie down and keep me warm!” I did not hesitate and soon, under what may have been a sleeping bag or debris snatched from the wicked wind, my back was the only part of my body not experiencing the symptoms of ‘the coming of the Europeans’ type hypothermia.

!

I lay there laughing through my chattering teeth, delirious as the woman clasping me caught someone else’s ear and he joined us behind her. We were too busy clinging to life to care about what this might look like to the people speaking in tongues around us. cont’d

In English, something was said about kerosene oil lamps in shops that were about to open. Yes...but is this what my first winter is going to be like? I wondered, Will I have to set myself on fire to get warm? I imagined myself in flames (and finally warm) as I drooped over on a bench, too exhausted to tighten my muscles and break the ice around my spine. In this lockerroom-like-place, women with their heads tied, wearing aprons, distributed what looked like noodles in boiling water to their patients.

Eventually someone decided that we might be able to see the sunrise if we started our descent and found a spot with fewer clouds. I just wanted to go to sleep and wake up at home. How was seeing a sunrise going to help me accomplish this? I was about to spit on sunrises everywhere when the mist gave up for a moment to reveal clouds below me like an endless field of tightly packed, ripe cotton, on the horizon of which the nestling sun ruffled its rays. I wanted to cup it in my hands, pull out its wings and keep it in a jar; not because of its Midas touch but to punish it for having cooled into a pale picture of itself.

I put away my camera and remembered that coming up the mountain hadn’t killed me and so going down would be ! given its chance.

The gravel loosened by the migrating multitude rolled under our feet but at least now we could see the brightly coloured winter wear around us, collapsing out of sight, and knew what to expect.

The terrain of the route down, although less predictable than the one up, was still that of an uninhabitable planet and its path continued to zigzag. I’d managed to, in my crapaud-like trance, get separated from the ones with whom I’d trembled at the top of the crater but had caught up with Nat, also a born again hater of heights, so we hit it off.

She’d lived in France for some time because her mother was a successful designer there but I never once wished for a crevice to suddenly open up and for her to be lost in it forever.

Our decision not to slide on our bottoms in a straight line across the Z’s was a good one. Stuart, a Scottish man who, when he drank, always talked about his mission to conquer the English, was beaten on his feet with a stick and spoken to in loud guttural noises for having done this.

We were only afraid it might start an avalanche or that we might be unable to stop and fall over a precipice (where I might try to fly back to Barbados). cont’d

Then, suddenly, there was enough oxygen in the air for my revived brain to properly examine what I’d been doing and my knee caps fell off. We stopped to rest and fill our eyes with the dust kicked up by the ones overtaking us more frequently after this as we imagined what it might be like at the bottom where people walked on flat ground or stood in the shade of a tree perhaps.

After about four hours of almost landing on our rear ends, landing on our rear ends and grazing our palms, wishing for flat ground, bathing in and lining our lungs with red ash, we had another two hours of the same. Then, at what looked like the level bottom where I anticlimactically was made to remember I still had to use my legs to walk, I was asked to complete a questionnaire about my climbing experience.

Nat pulled a ninja assassin move and disappeared before my eyes when the man said, “Free bottle of water,” which made me consider that she was probably never there.

I suggested they put in escalators.

The water quickly became hot as the sun remembered how to rise up and ripple the air but I continued to sip it. There were wild flowers the colour of bruised skin in the shade of a tree whose trunk looked like a stack of chilled watermelons. I’d been walking behind the only black man with dreadlocks I’d seen since my arrival in the country. When he saw me, he released an Asian woman’s hand to speak as if we were good friends.

Then he said they’d been to the mountain top….Why didn’t they look as if they’d been spat from the earth like an irreverent offering?

I did not believe in them — their existence — and asked if they knew a girl named Nat. Running away was followed by running around in an attempt to find the vehicle that had brought me there to perish.

After resisting the urge to let the blood of my mother’s great aunt Enid “rise up in me” to call down curses on the four blondes from the bus sitting in the square who’d been silently watching my headless chicken dance, I put my knee caps in my pocket and laughed at how I couldn’t bend my legs to get down the stairs without them.

I was sure I looked like my American friend Tyronne, ‘wukking up’ for the first time on Kadooment Day ‘down Spring Garden’ and hoped I would not break in half.

The survivors exchanged war stories at the bus. Some had turned back (bless them); others had been held in a chokehold by their stomachs; a few, after running out of water, had considered drinking their own fluids. At the back of the bus some hugged their knees as they slept...and there was even Miss Serendipity who took the right turn when everyone else took the left. cont’d

She was in an unreasonably expensive taxi that was bringing her from the other side of the place I renamed Morgoth (meaning ‘Black Foe to the World’ in Tolkien’s invented Sindarin language). Yes. There were taxis on the other side, in the Promised Land.

Happy to be alive, although not entirely convinced that that was the state in which I found myself, I used the backs of the bus seats as crutches to swing what was left of my hanging parts to the place I had occupied on my way to the challenge of a lifetime...before I could truly understand that that would mean a lesson in perseverance. I lowered myself into the seat. Someone outside commented that Mount Everest was almost 9000 meters high and that this Goliath was a molehill in comparison, at just under 4000 meters. Consequently, I estimated a meter to be about a barefoot walk in the midday sun around the periphery of fires that never burn dim.

This was the last thing I thought before I fell asleep, stepping weightlessly into a capsule that entered a long dark tunnel, speeding me away from my aching body. I would awaken on my back, disoriented, to find myself about halfway up a suspiciously high Mount Hillaby, the object of the attention of members of an eyelidless race of aliens. MB.

DINOSAUR F- AR T ! ! !

VACUUMASAURUS

BY SIMON WOODGETT AGED 8 3/4

JETFUEL May 2014

!

!

!

Rabbit Island

by Eleanor McNamee

During my time in Japan, I’ve been fortunate enough to do quite a bit of traveling. As my time here comes to an end, I’ve been reminiscing about my favourite trips. There are so many to choose from, but this recommendation is for the rabbit lovers among you. Personally, I’m more of a cat person, but rather fortunately felines are forbidden from stepping paw on Okunoshima— also known as Rabbit Island.

Okunoshima is a tiny island in

To get to Okunoshima you have to take a

Hiroshima prefecture and is home to over 300 inhabitants – all rabbits. The rabbits on the island are used to visitors and they are anything but shy. If you come armed with carrots and other vegetable-based snacks, you’re sure to make a good first impression with the locals.

Unfortunately, I completely forgot to

short 10-minute boat ride from the mainland.

The ferry port to head for is called Tadanoumi and ferries to and from the island run regularly and cost 300 yen each way. There’s even a hotel on the island if you’re looking for a longer stay.

Despite now being home to fluffy

take any snacks, but that didn’t stop me from getting a warm welcome. Although I did find it a little forward when a resident tried to eat my handkerchief.

bunnies and attracting thousands of visitors every year, this unassuming island has a more sinister past. During WW2, Okunoshima was a top secret military island used to test poison gas. During wartime the island produced more than 6,000 tons of toxic gas and the programme was shrouded in secrecy. All of the old gas

factories are still there, abandoned and overgrown, leaving an eerie reminder of the i s l a n d ’s p a s t . T h e r e ’s a n a b a n d o n e d watchtower, an old power station and a number of bunkers all still intact. I guess I’ve been watching too many movies, but when I heard of Okunoshima’s history I assumed that the rabbits that now inhabit the island must be the ancestors of escaped test bunnies.

Rabbits were used during the testing but according to the museum on the island those rabbits are not connected with the ones that live there now. In fact, I couldn’t really find any definitive information on how the rabbits came to be on the island. There’s even a theory that a local elementary school could no longer care for their beloved class pets and so decided to release them there. Whatever the truth, it’s clear that there’s a lot of history and

mystery associated with this tiny, little-known island.

For me, the contradictory history of Okunoshima is a tale of nature reclaiming what was once lost. Like Hiroshima’s Peace Memorial Museum, the smaller museum on the island presents the horrors of chemical warfare and serves as a reminder that there are no winners in war. The new cuddly inhabits somehow reinforce this message of peace. EM.

Okunoshima is a little off the main tourist map, but I highly recommend putting it on your list of places to see in Japan.

!

The old watchtower and storehouses

DINOSAUR F- AR T ! ! !

MUTANT DINOSAUR MENAGERIE

BY SIMON WOODGETT AGED 8 3/4

Memories of Syria

JETFUEL May 2014

by Sophie Walker

! ! In the summer before the Arab Spring, my friend and I spent a week exploring Syria. We got lost in the souks of Aleppo, devoured pistachio-topped ice cream in Damascus’ old city and visited one of the largest Roman amphitheatres in the world.

As anticipated, the Middle Eastern culture was simultaneously seducing and intimidating.

As unaccompanied foreign women, we had to be careful how we dressed (always wearing long sleeves and long trousers) and how we acted (to not receive unnecessary attention). It was because of our vulnerable position in their country that many Syrian people went out of their way to take care of us. A retired man became our tour guide for the day, a French-speaking shop-keeper brewed us tar-black cardamom coffee and a Christian family invited us into their home to share a feast of food with us. With little Arabic knowledge and with few Syrian people who spoke English, it was an undeniably hard country to travel in. Yet it is in countries least accessible that you become most reliant on and grateful for strangers’ hospitality, and we were overwhelmed by it.

“The cities that I visited have become battlefields, the tourist sites have been bombed and the people I met have become refugees in their own and neighbouring countries. Yet, I experienced a different Syria. A Syria where people smiled, kids played freely and taxi drivers swam in lakes.”

Seven months later, when the Syrian conflict became the headlines, my friend and I couldn’t believe it. The portrait of President Assad had been an ongoing joke for us, as we couldn’t walk down the street without seeing his eyes following us. But soon the whole world knew of what kind of dictator hid behind those unassuming eyes.

In March 2011, the ripples of anger from nearby revolutions spread to Syria and it unleashed the veiled tensions between progovernment and anti-government groups, as well as other deep-rooted feuds.

Three years on, the opposition are still trying to loosen Assad’s suffocating grip on the country. The cities that I visited have become battlefields, the tourist sites have been bombed and the people I met have become refugees in their own and neighbouring countries. Yet, I experienced a different Syria. A Syria where people smiled, kids played freely and taxi drivers swam in lakes. Here is one day that is particularly memorable. cont'd

JETFUEL May 2014

Palmyra, Syria 28 July, 2010

I woke up shivering.

The temperature of the desert had dropped considerably. The sheet, which seemed like a blanket a few hours ago, was now doing little to keep me warm. Then I heard the wind howling. It whirled around our small hotel room, and I was adamant that we were in a sandstorm.

I imagined being stuck in the room for the next week; the sand piling high outside the small window, and we’d have nothing but an old, rickety ceiling fan to keep us cool during the heat of the day.

was at its peak 2000 years ago. It would have been magnificent.

By 6am, it was too hot to be outside. We picked up our backpacks and went in search of breakfast. At a small café we discussed where

I was just about to wake my sleeping friend, telling her of our peril, when I came to my senses a little more, and The Roman Ruins realised it was not a sandstorm outside. It was just the noisy ceiling fan on full speed, spinning violently on to go that day. There were few choices. The its unstable-looking fitting. I turned it off and previous day we had taken an eventful bus there was peace. I chuckled to myself and went journey from Damascus (the tyre punctured, back to sleep. and we were transferred to another bus), so we A few hours later we woke to explore the wanted to make the most of the distance Roman ruins of Palmyra. ‘Ruins’ is the wrong travelled. word. The ancient city of Palmyra is an Something that caught our attention was a archaeologist’s dream, but you don’t need to be lake, unsurprisingly called Lake Assad, and an archaeologist to appreciate it. There are 10the guide book said it was possible to swim meter-tall towering columns, grand arches there. When you’re in a desert and it’s already decorated with intricate carvings and paved 40゜C at 7am, a swim in a lake sounds like roads with drain pipes running alongside them. It was easy to imagine the city when it

! ! ! ! ! heaven, so we decided to go there. cont’d !

!

100km from the Iraq border. Perhaps my previous night’s nightmare of being stuck in a desert was going to come true.

“We made the mistake only Englishmen and mad dogs make, to walk in the midday sun across the city.”

The café owner told us the bus we had to catch, and we hurriedly finished our breakfast and went to wait at the empty bus station. Sure enough, the bus came and we bought a ticket at the door. The two-hour journey passed quickly and smoothly. The view was unchanging; desert broken up by the odd collection of colourful nomad tents. At noon, we crossed the bridge over the Euphrates River to the town of Deir ez-Zur and saw young boys playing in the coollooking water. We hoped by the end of the day we’d be swimming, too.

Once into the city, the bus jolted to a halt and the bus driver signalled for my friend and me to get off the bus. We did as he said, and went to the nearby building that he was pointing to. It had a picture of Assad on the outside, and a whole gallery of them on the inside.

We were told to take a seat and wait. What we were waiting for, we didn’t know. Ten minutes later, we was shown into a room where a large man with a large moustache was sat behind a varnished table.

He asked for our passports and he inspected them with great interest.

I remember looking up at the portrait of President Assad, and hoping we would not run into any trouble in this desert town, just

Even though we just wanted to get a bus to the next town, we had to fulfill the tight bureaucracy of foreigners in Syria, having to sign in and sign out of every city we passed through. Next to the other names of foreigners who’d passed through the town, I wrote my name, date of birth, passport number and next of kin in the big heavy book.

It seemed strange writing down my father’s name and telephone number, and I tried not to imagine the situation where the large moustached man would need to call my father.

We made the mistake only Englishmen and mad dogs make, to walk in the midday sun across the city. We arrived exhausted at the West Bus Station, and had to meet another man with a moustache and write our names in another heavy book, to sign out of the city. cont’d

Lake Assad

! ! ! ! ! !

Then, we found a mini-van that was leaving for the town we were headed to, and we were squeezed in the back, with just a bottle of water and some sun-warmed dates to see us through to the next city. I opened a date, only to find things that looked like eggs inside it. I put it back in my bag and tried not to think about my empty stomach.

The mini-van journey was a painfully long, hot two hours. !

A young boy was bent in two, looking like he could throw up at any moment, and an older woman unashamedly stared at us for the first twenty minutes. At 3pm, we were glad to arrive at the next city of Ar-Raqqah and hoped to find some lunch there. Yet when we piled out of the van, we were suddenly surrounded by taxi drivers, mini-van drivers and idle by standing men who wanted to take us to the lake and charge us extortionately for it. This town obviously doesn’t see a lot of foreigners.

The bus ride

We escaped the crowd to go to a nearby café and think about our plan. We both gobbled down falafelfilled pita bread, which made us a lot happier. When the group of animated men had dispersed, we decided to go with the taxi driver who we’d asked first. We tried to get in the taxi before the other men noticed what was happening, and after bartering hard with the driver, we were on our way.

Out of the city, the driver put on some music and we all relaxed. At this point we trusted the man to get us to the lake, but we didn’t know if we’d get there before sunset, or even if it’d be clean enough to swim in. Forty minutes later, as we turned a corner, the vast blue of the lake came into view, and we all rejoiced.

Our driver parked meters away from the shore, we quickly changed our clothes (but still wore t-shirts and shorts) and waded into the cool water. It was bliss! All the sweat, dust and stress of the day washed off in one dive beneath the lake. The driver stripped down to his underwear and joined us in the lake too. After a day’s travelling, we were happy we’d reached our destination, but it was the journey that made it worthwhile.

! ! !

That evening we ate lamb kebabs and watched the sunset over the lake, before catching a ride!back to !

Aleppo and drinking a beer to celebrate our day’s fortunate adventure. SW. !

DINOSAUR F- AR T ! ! !

ASSAULT ON PARIO

BY JOCELYN IRLE AGED 10

Four Fabulous Lunch Sets! To Be Found In Fukui

JETFood May 2014

!

!by Fukui’s Finest Foodie !

EDITOR’S WARNING: Do not read on an empty stomach.

1. Cafe Mare - Echizen Coast

Nestled on a cliff overlooking the Echizen coastline, Cafe Mare is one of the most scenic cafes I’ve ever been to. The best part of coming here for lunch is that you can enjoy your meal while watching fierce waves crash against the craggy coastline through the floor-to-ceiling windows. The most famous item on the menu is the Crab & Clam Chowder (¥1,200), which is guaranteed to please any seafood lover. Be sure to try it next winter when it’s crab season again!

It’s also a great place to watch the sunset for anyone looking for a romantic place to go on a date.

Website: http://cafemare.jp / Phone #: 81 776-88-2323 / Open: 10am - sunset

2. Veg Yard (

) - Fukui City near LPA

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Looking for a healthy, cute location for a lunch date? If so, Veg Yard is fantastic and, although I’ve been raving about it for years, few ALTs seem to know about it. The food is always healthy, delicious and arranged so unbelievably artistically you won’t be able to resist taking a photo to show off to friends and family back home. My recommendation is the 9-dish assortment plate which also comes with soup and a salad (¥1,300). Be sure to save some room because you won’t be able to resist getting a dessert too! The cakes at this cafe are legendary and don’t worry if they look huge, sharing is encouraged.

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Phone #: 81 776-50-1551 (Reservation recommended) Location: (Behind LPA) 2 , Fukui, Fukui 910-0804 Open: Tues.-Sun. 11:30-7pm (*Lunch ends at 2pm)

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Large hotels in Japan traditionally serve magnificent and very high-end lunch sets which — let’s face it — are far too expensive for your average ALT’s budget, as superb as they may be. Salle à manger to the rescue! Located behind the SEIBU Department Store in Fukui City and run by the previous head chef of the Sabae City Hotel, the lunch set here is both a visual and culinary delight for a much more reasonable price. Be sure to go when you have plenty of time to linger, as the most basic lunch set is a 4 course meal (¥1,800) which changes daily and includes an appetizer, soup, main, dessert and an after dessert coffee.

Phone #: 0776-25-0151 (Reservation necessary) Address: Right behind the SEIBU department store in Fukui City ( ) Open: Most days. Lunch time is 11-2pm.

4. Tsupuya (すうぷ屋) - Fukui City near Undo Koen

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Fukui’s one and only Russian restaurant, Tsupuya, serves some of the best comfort food to be found in winter. It can be a little tricky to find this restaurant the first time you go, but the lunch set is worth the hunt. This set, which is a great value compared to dining there for dinner (only ¥1,500) consists of a piroshky (heaven in the form of a deep fried meat-stuffed bun), borscht soup, and a tsuboyaki (stew in a baked bowl with pastry on top). Good luck not ordering 2, 3 or even 4 more of the piroshky — they are to die for! JB.

Phone #: 0776-34-2099 Address: (near Undo Koen along Route 6) Open: Most days 10-9:30pm

piroshky: !

heaven in the form of a deep fried meatstuffed bun.

4-1-14, 918-8057

DINOSAUR F- AR T ! ! !

MUTANT MONKASAURUS

BY DEFINITELY NOT A STUDENT AGED 16

RAPTORS!!!

RAWR! RAPTOR CALLS, "ULTIMAAAAATTTTTEEE!!"

Can you run? Can you throw a frisbee? Can you catch a frisbee? Can you count to ten? No? Well it's okay but you'll have to learn how to count to ten if you want to play ultimate.

Fukui's very own Raptors won 2nd

I'd like to go into more detail but this

place in an exciting display of teamwork is a game that is more fun to learn by a t t h e Ta j i m a U l t i m a t e F r i s b e e playing and you can do just that by Tournament in Hyogo last year.

dropping by practices at Undo Koen in

Fukui City on Saturdays from 10-12. If This year we've been invited back you'd like to stay up to date with the and are hoping to hold onto this title. Fukui Raptors please join the Facebook Everyone can play ultimate, honestly. It's group, "Fukui Raptors." So whether you a game played on a field with two end are the most or least athletic, why not zones. One team "pulls" or throws the stop by and see what all the fuss is disc as far as they can to the other end of about? Most of us hadn't heard of the the field without going out of bounds and game before we came to Japan, but look then the fun starts. There are seven at us now! We are second and that p l a y e r s o n a t e a m a n d a l l t h e means we creamed Japanese teams that tournaments we attend are co-ed. It's a practice every single day like their lives straightforward game of pass and catch depend on it. Don't you want to be a part and when a player catches the disc in of that?!?!? their end zone they get a point.

We'll see you on the

field......RAWWWWWWRRRRRR!!!

AJM

Putting “F” in Fukui Julia and Ashley proving that counting to 10 is harder than it actually looks.

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ALT Awajii Soccer Tournament Autumn 2013

Fukui Win 5 out of 6! (…pre-match jankens.)

If football matches were decided by janken then Fukui would be world beaters. Unfortunately it's not, and therefore we're not.

However, the Autumnal Awajii tournament of 2013 did herald a new breakthrough in football equality. Barely being able to scrape a team together, both Fist (men’s team) and Phoenix (ladies team) merged as one to become the mighty chimera type monster known as a… urm…

Fistnix or Phoenist.

But who were these groundbreaking pioneers?

Time to meet the team...

P.S. We did actually win a real game of soccerball too!

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GK 1. Cian ‘The Cat’ McCarthy “A goalie! A goalie! My kingdom for a goalie!” was oft the prayer heard pre-Awajii tournaments. With the new draft of fresh meat in 2013 the prayer was answered as Cian “The Cat” McCarthy stepped off the plane and straight into the number one spot. The mere presence of a steady pair of hands was enough to instill confidence in the Fukui back-line, and strengthen the defensive spine allowing more freedom to play a more attacking brand of the beautiful game.

Cian made more than an impressive tournament debut by pulling off several top draw saves to add respectability to the numerous defeats. He even claimed an assist with one mighty goal kick that soared through the Shikoku heavens before landing at the feet of Dale the Dark Dagger Jeffery who duly dispatched the ball into the opposition's net with aplomb.

LB 2. Nick Forgotten Langston.

"The Man"

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GK 1. Kala "Clean Sheet" Coombs.

Sharing the goalkeeping duties was the Phoenix number one stopper Kala.

In another unforgettable men's tournament debut, Coombs cemented herself in Awajii folklore as the only unbeaten keeper in tournament history. Talks of a statue being erected in honour of her achievement are ongoing.

Her finest hour came against the defending champions and general allround arse holes Real Osaka. The heavy pre-match (and tournament) favourites Real Arse Holes were 2-0 up when Kala pulled on her gloves for her shift in goal. Despite their lead Real were desperate for goals, gosls, goals in order to improve their chances of a favourable draw in the knockout stages. The Arse Holes strikers' eyes lit up when they saw the diminutive Kala sub on for the second half. However, their dreams of hat tricks were soon dashed as Kala stood firm as the guardian of the Fukui goal and Fukui pride. Pulling off a couple of superb saves from close range against some of the sharpest strikers at the tournament "Clean Sheet" Coombs stood strong and her performance repeatedly screamed "You - Shall - Not - Pass!" as she went down in Awajii folklore.

CB 3. Michi "Don't F- With Me" Fukuoka

Another debutant, not only to Awajii but to the game itself.

However, Nick showed a natural ability for the beautiful game. He showed incredible fitness and stamina as he doggedly chased down the oppositions’ right wingers, frequently hassling and harrying them into conceding possession.

With more experience under his belt 2 he will surely go onto become a Fist stalwart.

CB 4. Dylan "The Welsh Warrior" Jones

Battling on despite an injured leg, he proved to be a solid force in the heart of defense. His no nonsense tackles, and effective use of body strength added some much needed steel and grit to the overworked Fukui defense.

Well… what can be said… already a living Fist legend. The one-man spine of the team. Some say the Ferdinand of Fukui. Rarely has there been a tough tackling, reliable centre-back who is also skillful and comfortable with the ball at his feet.

He proved he is more than just a commanding defender as he topped the tournament assist charts once again for Fukui.

RB 5. Emily "Chew 'em Up and Spit 'em Out" Chu

Yet another Awajii debutant who coveted herself in glory. If tough well-timed tackles were currency she'd be richer than Bill Gates. Also known as Emily the Ankle Breaker, she was in no mood to take prisoners when mixing it against the men.

Her most memorable moment came when faced with the equally feared Ashiya Titan number 10. This guy was no slouch, having already skinned several other members of the Fukui team and leaving them floundering in his wake. Yet on one particular dangerous foray down the left wing he met his match in Emily. He dipped his shoulder in an attempt to feign cutting in on the inside, then shifted to the left as he looked to whip in a cross from the byline… But diving in with exocet precision Chu went to ground winning the ball cleanly, much to the delirium of the watching Fukui bench.

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RB 5. Tom "The Gent" Herbert (Team Manager) Part 2 of the awesome twosome right-back tag team. Sharing shifts with the Ankle Biter, Tom stepped up and was counted. Always sticking close to his man, never giving them time to breath, forcing turnovers in possession and relieving the defensive pressure. At times Tom showed acute class as he was not only winning the ball, but holding on to it and waiting for support, rather than squandering well-earned possession by hoofing it up the field into the oppositions ranks.

RW 7. Christian "Quick Feet" Portillo

Again, a debutant who impressed.

He definitely had the correct dancing shoes on as his close control and quick feet provided an outlet for attack down the right hand-side, and showed an ability to deliver dangerous balls into the mix. He also ably contributed to the defensive cause, thereby putting in an all-round performance.

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DM 6. Simon "Invisible C M / R M / R B 9 . Yo s h i o "The Utility Man" Arai Arm" Woodgett.

(Team Captain)

Yet another Fukui Fist living A seasoned campaigner, Simon captain legend, and one of the most the Fist for the first time. Once again tactically aware players to wear the he was solid in his defensive duties and famous black and red stripes. in his haranguing of the referees.

Usually a stalwart for fair play Simon began flirting with dark arts of football after discovering a unique physical phenomenon - namely a right arm invisible to the naked eye of referees.

Most conservative accounts agree on no less than 4 ball touching incidents in his own box. A crafty elbow deflected one shot harmlessly onto the post in one match, followed by a hat trick of handling in another match. Penalties against count 0.

However, at times he could've been dubbed captain calamity with some truly dreadful dead-ball deliveries, but he redeemed himself with some impressive janken skills, unsurpassed in this tournament, winning 5 out of the 6 pre-match jankens!

Throughout the tournament he played in several different positions when called upon, and once again showed his class with intelligent decision making and putting his body on the line. Several times he was on the receiving end of some rough tackles. Grimacing like the seasoned pro he is, he was always quickly back on his feet and ready to resume battle.

RM 9. Christen "The Flasher" Donnelly

CM 8. Nigel "The Boss" Mahoney

The beating heart of the Fist midfield.

Never one to shirk a tackle he once again got stuck in, disrupting the oppositions flow. He not only provided grit but he was also the driving force of the attacks.

He showed experience and guile as he constantly skipped past players and fed the front two. He also looked dangerous on the edge of the oppositions area and was very unlucky not to add another goal to his Fist career tally.

A Phoenix veteran, Donnelly donned the Fist shirt and put herself forward to help shore up the right flank. Again she was up to her old tricks, living up to her nickname and giving the crowd what they craved for as they chanted "Donelly, Donelly show us your... tricks!" - to which she duly responded on numerous occasions by flashing her brilliance.

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STR 10. Dale "The Deadly Dark Dagger" Jeffery

AM/LM 11. Mathieu "The Ref" Martin A M / S T R 1 0 . S t e ve n "Kagawa" Harwood

Another living breathing Fist legend. In fact they say when he takes off a plaster (band aid) the blood stains read "Fist". Mathieu is one of the few natural left footers and showed great nous in finding space and exposing it, twice steaming down the left and crossing telling balls into the danger area.

Wi t h h i s p e n c h a n t f o r refereeing and his hate for all things Arsehole related, it has been documented that he is the only known natural predator of Real Osaka.

Quickly becoming another regular feature of the Fist attack, Steve was once again involved in some of the Fists most beautifully crafted moves. Linking up well with some neat one-two ticca-tac football he proved an asset in attack. He set up numerous attacks in the opening game of the tournament, outfoxing the opposition with some neat Cruyff turns that rightly earning him several man of the match nominations from his fellow team mates.

The Supporters: Harriet "The Pointer" Sheridan Eamon “Omiyage” Corrigan An honourable mention must go to the official supporters club.

Absolute Fistnix fanatics at heart they managed to sit through 10 minutes of one game before buggering off to go sightseeing.

Who knows how differently things might have turned out if they had stayed to cheer on the groundbreaking warriors of equality.

However, they made more than an amends with a constant supply of sustenance for the weary warriors with ample donations of omiyage to replete the teams waining energy. They also took on role of party coordinators by organising the drinking games such as forfeit jenga. (Which Dale definitely did not partake in.)

The one man strike force. The scoring machine. The penetrator. (He’s also pretty good at football too.) These are just some of the nicknames he has earned with his virtuoso performances in the red and black stripes. Once again he topped the Fukui scoring charts as he sliced through defenses, rode tackles and jinked his way past centre-backs. And once again the Deadly Dagger was the focal point of the attack, shouldering the goal burden by scoring all of the Fistnixes goals! Arise Sir Jeffery of Sabae.

Eamon playing Jenga.

Dale not playing Jenga.

The Awajii Workout

Fukui World Cup Fiesta!!!

Saturday 28th June Fukui Higashi Park (10 minute walk "om Fukui Station!)

Let’s celebrate the upcoming world cup in Brazil with...

Food, Football and Fun! Outdoor 5 a-side friendly coed soccer tournament.

Anyone can enter! Boy, girl, new-half !

You don’t even need to organise a team! (teams randomly assigned) 9:30am - 4:30pm 500円 entrance fee (players and spectators)*

Crappy old goals :o(

Funds will go towards new goals which we will use at the tournament! please respond to the e-mail address below e-mail:

fjetsports@gmail.com

Required info: Full name - Nationality - Player or Spectator? - Interested in providing food or entertainment? (Further tournament details will be e-mailed to responders)

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*free entry for people providing cultural food and/or half-time entertainment.

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